The novels of Charles Brockden Brown, consisting of Wieland;or, The transformation. Arthur Mervyn; or, Memoirs of the year 1793. Edgar Huntly; or, Memoirs of a sleep-walker. Jane Talbot. Ormond; or, The secret witness. Clara Howard; or, The enthusiasm of love. With a memoir of the author.

THE SECRET WITNESS.

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more characteristic particulars had not been remarked,
or were forgotten. The name had been mentioned, but,
in the midst of more recent and momentous transactions,
had vanished from remembrance. Dudley, or Dolby, or
Hadley, seemed to approach more nearly than any other
sounds."
Permission to inspect the house was readily granted.
It had remained, since that period, unoccupied. The
furniture and goods were scanty and wretched, and he
did not care to endanger his safety by meddling with
them. He believed that they had not been removed or
touched.
I was insensible of any hazard which attended my
visit, and, with the guidance of a servant, who felt as
little apprehension as myself, hastened to the spot. I
found nothing but tables and chairs. Clothing was
nowhere to be seen. An earthen pot, without handle,
and broken, stood upon the kitchen-hearth. No other
implement or vessel for the preparation of food appeared.
These forlorn appearances were accounted for by the
servant, by supposing the house to have been long since
rifled of every thing worth the trouble of removal, by
the villains who occupied the neighbouring houses,this alley, it seems, being noted for the profligacy of its
inhabitants.
When I reflected that a wretched hovel like this had
been, probably, the last retreat of the Dudleys, when I
painted their sufferings, of which the numberless tales
of distress of which I had lately been an auditor enabled
me to form an adequate conception, I felt as if to lie
down and expire on the very spot where Constantia had
fallen was the only sacrifice to friendship which time
had left to me.
From this house I wandered to the field where the
dead had been, promiscuously and by hundreds, interred.
I counted the long series of graves, which were closely
ranged, and, being recently levelled, exhibited the appearance of a harrowed field. Methought I could have
given thousands to know in what spot the body of my
friend lay, that I might moisten the sacred earth with
my tears. Boards hastily nailed together formed the
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